Page 116 of Cemetery Boys

TWENTY-ONE

Yadriel parked the Stingray a couple of streets over from the cemetery. Partly because the street was packed with cars—all the brujx families would be there to celebrate and welcome the spirits home tonight. Also to buy time until he figured out how to get it back to Rio. But that was a problem for the morning. Right now, he needed to get Julian and himself through the cemetery and back to the old church without being noticed.

“Just act natural,” Yadriel murmured as they approached the gate. With Día de Muertos little more than an hour away, there was enough spirit energy filling the air that Julian could go relatively unnoticed.

The doors stood wide open as people funneled in. Brujos stood by, greeting folks as they entered, but to also keep any outsiders from wandering into a brujo celebration, thinking it was a Halloween party.

Inside the gates, it was like walking into another world of golden light and color.

“Whoa,” Julian breathed in awe.

Candles lined all the paths and graves for as far as the eye could see. Towering arches adorned elaborately with marigolds stood at the heads of graves, sarcophagi, and mausoleums alike. Brightly colored banners of papel picado crisscrossed overhead. More marigolds and deep red-violet chrysanthemums lined walkways and covered dirt mounds. Bottles of rum stuffed with peppers, meant to warm the bones of the returning spirits, leaned against tombstones. The cemetery thrummed with energy and excitement. The air felt alive and electric, like before a thunderstorm.

Ornate ofrendas filled every available space. Some altars were modest, with just a photo, candles, copal incense, and pan de muerto. Meanwhile, other folks took it as a personal challenge to outdo each other every year. Some altars stood seven steps high, piled with food and drinks. There were large, painted portraits propped on top of columbarium walls. Urns were piled with marigolds. More of the sacred flowers spilled over every possible surface. At a young girl’s ofrenda, a bicycle had been covered in the bright orange flowers, her picture tucked into the spokes.

As they moved through the cemetery, gritos filled the air. The loud, trilling tongues and sharp “Ay, ay, ay!” cut through the air, growing louder as others in the cemetery joined in. They were meant to lead the spirits back home. As the gritos swelled, the nearby candle flames popped and flared with excitement. Golden sparks rippled through marigolds in shivering waves like a choreographed lightshow. The louder the grito, the brighter they shone.

Julian’s pleased laughter made Yadriel smile as they weaved through the celebrants, spirits and brujx alike.

Everyone was dressed for the occasion. Three small girls chased one another between headstones in poufy dresses made of tulle and satin. Younger brujos came in nice slacks and pressed shirts, while the brujas went all out with billowing skirts and intricate hairstyles.

The older brujos came in sacred jewelry, passed down through the generations. Heavy plugs of jade and obsidian hung from stretched earlobes. An older woman wore a heavy jade pendant on her chest, carved to resemble a two-headed snake. An elaborate nose ornament worn by a man being guided by a young lady was made of turquoise and gold. A bell dangled from each flared side.

At the steps of the church stood Yadriel’s dad with Lita at his side. They greeted brujx as they entered the church. Lita held herself like a queen, chin tilted proudly. His dad, on the other hand, looked distracted and upset. Between shaking hands and smiling, his eyes searched the crowd, deep wrinkles set into his brow.

Yadriel knew it was because of him. He hadn’t messaged or called back yet, and sharp guilt urged him to pull out his phone right there and then. Instead, Yadriel tugged his hood up over his head. He could make excuses and ask for forgiveness later. Right now, he had a job to finish.

“Come on,” Yadriel murmured quietly to Julian, hoisting his backpack higher up on his shoulder. It was packed tight, the zipper hardly able to close. Yadriel ducked his head to slink back into the crowd when someone caught him by the arm.

“Finally!”

Yadriel jolted, but when he whipped around, it was Maritza’s angry face staring at him.

“Jesus, Maritza!” he hissed, pressing his hand to his hammering heart.

Maritza wore a white dress with ruffled skirts. Her fists were on her hips, where a yellow sash was tied around her waist. A marigold was tucked behind her ear amid her purple-and-pink curls. She wore her portaje around her neck, as usual. The rose-quartz rosary perfectly matched the pink in her hair. “Your dad’s been looking for you and bugging me about it all night!” she snapped.

“Sssh!” Yadriel looked around, worried that someone would notice him or, worse yet, Julian, if they lingered in one place for too long.

“Did you do it yet?” Maritza searched the air around Yadriel.

Julian made a disgruntled noise and stepped up to Yadriel’s side.

Maritza’s eyes snapped right to him.

“Good to see you, too.” Julian waved.

“Not yet,” Yadriel told her. “I’m taking him to the old church.”

Maritza’s pink lips pursed. “Yads—!”

“Just buy me some more time—”

“I’ve done all I can!” Maritza pressed. “We’re supposed to be setting up the last of the ofrendas! Any minute he’s going to freak out and send a search party looking for you!”

Frustration simmered under Yadriel’s skin. He wanted more time with Julian. He didn’t want to be rushed into releasing his spirit. “What if—”

“You should go.”